Sly Cooper - Another Time
by RatchetKicksAss44
Summary: Blending two of the most famous (or infamous) bandits of all time, Sly Cooper is warped back in time after Bentley's teleport device goes awry, sticking him right in the middle of Robin Hood's turf. The Renaissance man has managed to get himself into more trouble with the unjust law, and employs the help of the time thief, who's bringing more than just a bow and arrow to the past.
1. Becoming History

**Chapter 1**

**Becoming History**

Sly stood idly by as he watched Bentley working on his latest invention, his two extra arms helping along the way. Once again, curiosity had taken his friend beyond the limits of the laws of physics, idea after idea, never resting until he had completed the job, and then found his hard work had usually been for naught. Sly was still missing some fur from Bentley's last brainstorm. As Sly leaned against the wall, he crossed his leg behind him and folded his arms, watching intently. Bentley still had no idea he was being watched by a yearning soul as he used his welders, tweezers, and other tiny gadgets and gizmos whose purposes were unknown to the veteran raccoon. In all honesty, Sly was fascinated by science. Although his specific line of work called for stealth and thievery, Sly loved to expand his mind. He felt it would improve awareness in the field, and in his field, awareness was everything. Then again, so was a relaxed trigger finger and a cool head. Sly heard Murray's thumping feet before he even appeared in the hallway, and even then, the dark, ominous torches they used down here weren't all that helpful. Sly looked to the left and saw his other friend: bigger than expected for an agent, but a valuable member nonetheless. He was also the joker of the group.

"What's our resident amphibian doing now?" asked Murray.

"Yaaah!" Bentley jumped at the sound of his voice, scattering his tools.

"He's...concentrating," said Sly, neither his gaze nor stance shifted in the slightest.

"Can't a genius invent in _peace_?" Bentley cried out in his nasally voice.

"Come on, Bents," said Sly. "It takes more than one person to fight the fight."

"I _told _you not to call me that!"

"I'm sure we're both interested to know what you're working on so earnestly," Murray butted in.

Bentley pushed his glasses up. "For your information, it is a particle accelerator that fits on the wrist and is designed to take the atoms of the wearer and move them to the place they wish to go."

"A teleporter," Sly said to Murray, catching the hippo's confused look.

"To the inferior mind, yes, it is a teleporter," Bentley spat.

"Who are you calling inferior?" shot back Murray, taking a menacing step towards the turtle.

"Okay, okay, calm down, you guys," Sly said, finally prying himself off the wall to spread his arms between his team. "Bentley, you've been working on it for a long time. How's it coming?"  
>"In all honesty, Sly, it doesn't want to play fair," Bentley said, calming down and spinning around to face the gadget in progress again. "It requires a miniaturized catalytic converter to function properly, and all of our contacts say it's nearly impossible to get one."<p>

"A catalytic converter? Like the ones in cars?" Murray asked, equally nonviolent. "Shouldn't be hard for them to loan us funds for a car."

"See, that's the thing, Murray," sighed Bentley. "The catalytic converters found in cars don't function properly when they're smaller than they should be. Otherwise, since we're under a hotel, I'd take ten minutes to get the parts required. So unless you have any ideas..." He finished his sentence pleadingly and looked at Sly, then Murray, then Sly again, hoping somebody would answer him.

"Well...I could always see if Carmelita has something that can help. I would be of more help if I wasn't trying to figure out how to play the solo of that song I listen to 24/7." He vibrated his right hand up and down near his leg, pretending to have a pick in between his index finger and his thumb while he was playing a hundred notes a second, all while sliding his left hand up and down an invisible guitar neck, forming the corresponding chords with his fingers. "I've made it past the first sixteen measures, and then I just fall out of the pocket."

"I'll pretend I have the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Sly," said Bentley. "In the meantime, Carmelita may be our best shot. See what she has that could be of some use."

"I need the alone time anyway," said Sly. "Good work on your little…"

"Death trap?" Bentley suggested, as if he knew that was what Sly was about to say.

"I was thinking more along the lines of 'quick-getaway device.'"

"Of course you were."

Sly chuckled and looked at Murray. "Let's leave him alone. Head on over to the gym and pump some iron or something," he said as he walked down the hall towards the door opposite of the area from which Murray had first made visual contact.

Sly turned right as he exited the hall. It was more of a cave, Sly thought to himself. He walked through their underground base of sorts, looking inside every room he passed by. They had rooms full of gadgets, weapons, artifacts. Some rooms even had useless junk that they had found and Bentley had interpreted to be of help sometime in the future. Before Sly knew it, he was in the living quarters. Four different rooms were lined up in a hallway, alternating from left to right. He passed Bentley's quarters, and saw failed inventions strewn on the floor. Nothing had changed there. Murray had shoved a bunch of protein powder into this quarters. No surprises there. Carmelita's quarters had nothing new...except Carmelita.

Carmelita could almost never be caught cooped up in a room. She always needed to be locking criminals up. Sly was all too familiar with this, since he had been on the business end of her gun before. He had eventually gotten back to the present (the past for those aliens that helped him), and he ended up coming back out of a wormhole God knows how many feet above the ground. He had free fallen onto a tall building, painfully crashing through the glass windows in the exact same skyscraper Carmelita was searching for him. She had given him his photo and then proceeded to cry tears of joy into his limp shoulder. Sly, of course, was unconscious at the time, but Bentley told him the whole story while the raccoon was in a hospital bed. Apparently, the sneaky reptile had been monitoring her entire operation on finding Sly. Sly had then told Bentley, "It's nice to know people care about me." He hadn't spoken all that much to Carmelita since, because she insisted on fighting crime, although they did share the occasional private moment with each other. She was sitting at her desk, typing on her portable computer. Sly knocked lightly on her open door, and she jumped. She smiled mischievously when she saw him standing there.

"Sly Cooper," she said in her best you've-been-a-naughty-boy voice. "Only you would never be able to make your appearance known." She stood up and walked over to him. "What do you want?"

"Uh, Bentley wants to know if you have a, uh…" Sly made spun his hand around his ear as he made snapping noises. "A...A miniaturized catalytic converter."

Carmelita's head dropped, her eyes still fixed on Sly's. "What the hell is he up to?"

"Making a teleport, apparently."

"Emphasis on 'apparently.'"

"Exactly, yeah," Sly chuckled. "Anyways, Bentley needs an answer, and I'm hoping you have one. Considering the fact that he doesn't take kindly to setbacks, you'd be saving my ass. Unless the teleport doesn't work, and then I'm screwed no matter what I wish for. Unless it's death by turtle."

Carmelita sighed. "A mini catcon? Can't he just go up and rip one out of a car up there and shrink it?" She threw her hand up to reference the large parking garage they were residing under.

"Ah, he said the catalytic converters in cars don't work if they're shrunk," said Sly. "Don't ask me. I have no idea. That's all I know."

"Well, I might have one lying around," she said mysteriously. "Of course, favors aren't free. I'll need something in return."

"And that would be...what?" asked Sly.

Carmelita responded by grabbing his shirt and pulling him into her quarters. She started kissing him as she used his back to close the door. Sly's eyes got wide and he started protesting while Carmelita began to take his shirt off. "Mmmfh! MMmmmfh!" Carmelita pried her lips away from his and pushed him onto her bed. Sly gasped for air.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sly cried out in surprise. He felt himself getting larger as Carmelita pulled his pants down.

"Getting my payment out of the way," came Carmelita's voice somewhere from between his legs. Suddenly, he felt something wet and warm engulfing his member as Carmelita made a muffled noise.

_Hoooo boy_, thought Sly to himself, stifling a groan of pleasure. _This is going to take a while…_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Half an hour later…<strong>_

Sly was still shaking as he handed Bentley his required material. The reptile noticed.

"Did it take a while to convince Carmelita to hand it over?"

"Well, she gave me the part. She just…really rode me for it." Sly hoped Bentley wouldn't catch the double meaning, and was suddenly relieved he had taken the time to wash her lipstick off his face before giving Bentley his new toy.

"And here I thought you two were in love." Bentley had the sarcastic tone of a broken soul.

"Ya know, I think we still have a little something in our connection. She wasn't too hostile…"

"Well, as long as you got a mini catalytic converter out of it, I'll tell you to keep doing what you're doing," Bentley said absentmindedly.

_Oh, I don't need to be told to keep doing what I'm doing with Carmelita. My friend agrees with me,_ thought Sly as he started to get big again. Once again, it went right by Bentley, who was now looking at the catalytic converter through his magnifier. Sly looked down at his hand in shock. He was so wrapped up in his event with Carmelita that he forgot to give Bentley the part. Bentley must have gotten impatient, because he was working on the teleportation device.

"I don't know why Carmelita had this just like that," said Bentley as he snapped his fingers, still working on his invention. "Of course, I probably don't _want _to know why." He stopped talking for a few seconds, still working on the teleport. He stopped abruptly and looked at Sly.

"Go get some sleep," he said, taking his glasses off and polishing them with a rag. "It's near midnight. I'll have this up and running in a while. We'll test it in the morning."

"Right, Bentley. See you." As Sly walked off, he thought of the encounter he had had with Carmelita. If he was honest with himself, he liked it. He knew he had started daydreaming, because once again, he was suddenly in his bed. As quickly as Sly had made the journey from Bentley's gizmo room to his quarters, the "what-ifs" seemed to pound his body as hard and as rapidly as his beating heart did. What if it blew his hand off? What if he had a skyscraper repeat? What if he teleported to a wormhole? Sly shook his head, trying to focus on the positives. However, those were in short supply. Defeated, Sly closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

><p>As Robin plucked his lyre, he felt content. Sitting in a tree seemed to give him that emotional high. He sang the lyrics to a song of his own creation:<p>

"_From dawn to dusk my days go by,_

_I'm waiting for a sign to tell me why,_

_Am I dancing all alone?_

_ Collect some stars to shine for you,_

_ And start today, there are only a few,_

_ The sign of time, my friend."_

He continued playing his lyre, tears in his eyes as he took his words to heart. His fingers danced up and down the strings, and he kept the beat by tapping his palm on the body of his instrument. As he played the final chord, he heard Little John yelling at him.

"ROBIN! ROBIN!" Little John hollered.

Robin jumped in surprise, and he felt himself falling out of his tree. Instinctively, he stretched his paw out, hoping to halt his descent. Luck prevailed as his fingers wrapped around a tree branch. He watched, panting lightly, as his hat make the rest of the fall. He looked ahead of him, and he saw Little John running to meet him. Robin let go of his salvation and dropped lightly to the ground, bending his knees at such and angle that he needed to put his hand on the ground to prevent his face from kissing the dirt. As he regained his full height, he found that Little John had halted, breathing heavily with his hands on his knees.

"Little John! What's happening?" Robin asked.

"It's…" Little John huffed. "It's the sheriff! He's taken Marian hostage and he's parading her around the forest with his cursed posse!"

Robin looked down, shocked. He shook his head, now breathing as heavily as Little John.

"No…" he muttered to himself. "No…" He looked at Little John. "Where are they?"

"They're moving west about five hundred meters from here. If you hurry, you can save her!"

Robin scooped up his hat, placed it on his head, and picked up his lyre. He gave it to Little John, who seemed startled. "I believe I can trust you with this, John," Robin said as he turned back towards his tree. He shimmied up the trunk, and when he got high enough, grabbed the branch he had been sitting on. He pulled himself up and crouched as he unsheathed his knife, looking at the blade to see if it was sharp enough.

"He's gone too far this time," he said. He looked at his friend. "Thank you, Little John." With that, he started to jump from tree to tree, racing to rescue his love.

* * *

><p>Sly ran through his checklist once again.<p>

"Pistol, rifle, both silenced, of course, scepter…something." He picked up what appeared to be a stick of deodorant. "BENTLEY!"

The turtle appeared in Sly's doorway. "Yes?"

Sly flashed the deodorant at him. "What the hell's this? Knowing you, it's either knockout gas that looks like deodorant or deodorant that looks like deodorant."

"Former," said Bentley indifferently.

Sly gave a light laugh, then put it back in his pile of things he would take, just in case something went wrong. "Spare ammo, pepper spray, parachute…and assorted," he finished.

"Sly, don't put it off!"

"I'm not. What do you think I'm doing? Wrapping Christmas presents?"

"What if you're not prepared?"

"How d'you mean?" asked Sly disbelievingly. "I look like I'm ready for World War 3."

"Food?"

"MREs."

"Water?"

Sly held up a huge backpack with liquid sloshing inside. "Two steps ahead, Bentley."

"Death?"

"You know, Bentley, if you want to loan me your copy of the Bible or the Qur'an, I'd love to know I'm going to paradise if I'm atomized. Otherwise, stop bothering me." Sly turned around and was checking the safety on his rifle when he was hit in the back of the head with a book. "Dammit!" he cried out. He looked for the object thrown, rubbing his head with his hand. Sure enough, there was a Bible on the floor, New International Version.

"You rang?" Bentley said, clearly miffed. Sly looked at him, then at the Bible. He sighed and picked it up.

"Just…go make sure the teleporter's ready, Bentley." The turtle rolled out of Sly's room, heading back to his cave of invention. Sly watched him go and turned back to his pile, making sure he had enough spare magazines for his rifle. He turned his safety off, loaded it, and slung it over his shoulder, the piece of material making it possible for him to carry his pistol at the same time. He took hold of his backpack by one shoulder strap and slung it over his back. Immediately, both his rifle and his scepter started to press into his back. Sly quickly took the backpack off along with his weapons. It took him a moment to recover, but eventually he managed to get his breath back. He changed his tactic by putting his pack on first, then by grabbing his rifle by the middle and holstering his pistol, leaving his other hand free to take his scepter. Sly started towards the door, fully prepared. He exited his living quarters and began to walk back to Bentley. He heard the _click-clack_ of high heels behind him. He turned around to see Carmelita walking towards him.

"You look like you're ready for hell," she said.

"Mad scientist's orders," he replied. "He says we don't want, in his words, 'a Carmelita repeat.'"

"Well, a sexy raccoon falling on me from out of nowhere, I think I'd take my chances," she replied coyly as they continued down the base.

"Come on. He's got a point. I'm going to need to be ready for any situation, and I'm sure you agree."

"I never said I didn't."

"You implied it."

"You assumed I implied it."

"I knew you implied it. Your eyebrow raises when you lie to me."

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"Excepting bullets flying at me, no, nothing does." Sly decided to flirt. "You've got that face on."

"What face?"

"The 'he's hot when he does that' face."

"This is my normal face."

"Indeed it is."

"Shut up."

"Not a chance," said a smiling Sly, getting the final word as they approached Bentley's workspace. The turtle had apparently heard them talking, because he was out in the hall, ready to meet them with teleport in hand.

"I just want to say thank you for going along with this, Sly," he said. "I know how this must be intimidating, what with time travel being a bad experience in the past."

"Don't have any second thoughts, Bentley. Where's Murray?"

"He's still at the gym."

"So you're telling me I slept for an hour or two?"

"About that."

"Well, better than no sleep at all," said Sly. "You wanna do the honors?"

"Of course, Sly," replied Bentley. Sly held his hand out with his wrist up. Bentley strapped the device onto Sly's arm. As it contacted his skin, he could feel it vibrating with energy.

"It seems unstable. Should I be worried?" said Sly.

"That's just the MCC, Sly," replied Bentley impatiently. "It takes more than a battery to teleport."

"I'll just take your word for it." Sly brought his wrist up to his chest. There was just a solitary button. Nothing else decorated Sly's hand. "I don't see a control panel or anything," he said curiously.

"Just think of somewhere, and when you slam your hand on that button it'll teleport you there."

"Alright," said Sly uncertainly. _Carmelita's room,_ he decided. Carmelita seemed to know that was his thought process, because she started to walk away towards the living quarters.

"Okay," said Sly. "Now or never." His adrenaline rushed. His heart shattered his rib cage. Sweat appeared on his forehead. "Three, two, one." He slapped his wrist a little harder than he felt was necessary. He was falling through something. What it was he didn't know. He was just falling, falling, falling…


	2. Lost in Time Again

**Chapter 2**

**Lost in Time…Again**

**Robin**

The trees were nothing but a blur as Robin hurtled through the forest. His knife was at the ready as he stayed above the ground. He heard nothing to indicate whether he was close to the sheriff's party. Unfazed, Robin kept his speed. If there was any way he could save Marian, he would take it, even if it meant his own life.

"Robiiin," he heard the evil tones of the sheriff taunting him. "Come out and plaaay…"

Robin ground to a halt and crouched to his knees. The sounds of crunching leaves marked the sheriff's location. Robin's sensitive ears picked up faint whimpering. Marian! He was about to confront the sheriff before he stopped himself. _If I do this now, they'll harm her, or worse,_ he thought. _I ought to take a hostage of my own. The sheriff would likely be more cooperative._

The sheriff was still calling out to Robin, hoping the bandit would accept the challenge. His footsteps passed underneath Robin, and he could see the problem. The sheriff was holding Marian by the wrist, flanked by three guards. He would have to wait; those horns didn't look like they'd feel too good. Robin silently let himself down to a dangling position on a tree branch. When the last guard walked past, he let go and fell to the ground, making little noise.

"He's not here, darling," the sheriff said menacingly to Marian. "That's unfortunate for both him _and _you." Robin heard the sound of flesh against flesh as Marian yelped in pain. The sheriff laughed. _No!_ Robin silently moved towards his target, now angry and very dangerous. Positioning himself just behind the guard, he leaped up and put the knife to its throat, while clenching his other arm around its waist. The rest of the party turned around.

"Let the lady go," Robin said in a dangerous voice, staring defiantly at the sheriff.

"Robin Hood," the sheriff replied as if everything were perfectly fine. "I applaud your efforts, though I seem to remember that you were much more friendly all of those times I almost tied the rope around your neck.

"I PROMISE YOU, I'LL TAKE HIS LIFE!" Robin spat back, his anger snapping as he pushed the blade harder against his hostage.

"Oh, I don't think you will," the sheriff replied calmly. He mimicked Robin's behavior, putting a knife to Marian's throat. She gasped in surprise and fear, her eyes wide and frightened. Robin was in shock. Emotion overtook him, and his eyes clouded with tears. He suddenly became aware that his hand was shaking, in danger of killing the only being keeping Marian from dying.

"I never got love. I have no connection. I am loyal only to Prince John. You eliminate one of my men, I move on with life, not ever caring again. However…" The sheriff pressed the blade of his knife closer to Marian's throat, just as Robin had. "They tell me true love is once in a lifetime.

"So you have a choice, Robin Hood. And either way, you die. But answer me this. One execution…" He gestured to Marian threateningly. "…or two?"

Robin felt a tear rolling down his cheek. He gritted his teeth, his hand now shaking uncontrollably. He blinked the tears away, but as he looked at Marian, they came back. She was helpless, and if Robin killed the sheriff's officer, she would die.

"Oh, sweet, sweet justice!" the sheriff taunted. "You lack the courage to move the knife, do you not?"

"Silence," Robin said quietly. "Don't whisper my abilities in my own ear."

The sheriff gave an evil chuckle. "Then do it. I enjoy getting blood on my hands."

Robin looked at Marian one last time. The sheriff was right. He couldn't let her die. He was her life. No, he loved her more than life itself. He spent the day counting the seconds he was with her, and when she left, he counted the seconds until they would meet again. To have her taken away from him was unthinkable. Slowly, he lowered his weapon away from the throat of his hostage. He laid it on the ground, and carefully kicked it to the sheriff, who nodded his head. The officer grabbed Robin by the shoulder, spun him around, and cuffed him all in one fluid motion. He was marched to the sheriff, who placed a collar around his neck which was attached to a chain that the sheriff controlled.

"Okay," Robin said in a pleading voice. "I spared his life. Now spare hers."

The sheriff seemed to be pondering it, but just for a moment. "Of course. Let it not be said that I am completely without heart." He sheathed his knife and released Marian, who ran to Robin with tears in her eyes. She threw herself onto his shoulder, weeping.

"Why, Robin? Why did you come for me?" she said, her voice breaking as her tear-filled eyes met his.

"As much as I thought I would never say it, the sheriff is right," said Robin, his voice breaking as well. "I love you. I told you the last time I was to die, and I'll tell you this time, as well." His tears flowed freely.

"But this time, there's no way out," Marian sobbed. "No Little John, no friar, nobody. You _will_ die this time."

"I'll die a man of the people, Marian. I was never loyal to the prince." Robin took a shaky breath. "And if Little John can't save me, you can be sure he'll avenge me."

"I love you," Marian whispered so that only Robin could hear. With that, she closed her eyes, tilted her head, and pressed her lips against his. Robin broke. The emotion was too much. His tears were relentless, wetting his fur in salty lines running down his face. Marian wasn't going to stop anytime soon, and Robin knew it. She was going to delay his death for as long as possible. Robin's heart filled with something he had never felt before. Even though death waited with a devil put aside for him, he felt happy. It was a strange sensation, happiness. He had no idea one could feel happiness while in danger. Suddenly, he felt his collar yanking on his throat. Robin choked, falling to the ground. He landed hard, his bonds preventing him from keeping his head slamming into the dirt. He turned to his side and retched, trying to clear his lungs of his own saliva. He received another yank to the throat, worsening his condition.

"Get up, traitor!" said the sheriff, drawing his sword.

"He can't!" yelled Marian angrily, trying to defend Robin. "Don't you see him? He's dying!"

"How fortunate! It will save me the work of setting up his gallows!" Robin's vision was blurred, but he could make out the two figures. Marian was standing in between him and the sheriff. Somehow, he sensed that was about to change. His suspicions were confirmed as the sheriff pushed her out of the way. Marian fell to the ground.

"No!" Robin sputtered, still choking.

"I guess I will just have to assist you in rising to your feet, correct?" the sheriff said with an evil smile. He grabbed Robin by the shoulder, digging his claws into Robin's flesh. Robin groaned in pain, his shoulder feeling like it was on fire. He could feel the sheriff's claws moving around inside his shoulder, helping him stand. Robin's neck muscles tightened as he screamed in agony. Finally, his feet were stable on the ground, but not before the sheriff had had his fun. Robin looked at his shoulder. Blood stains were splattered across his thin green shirt, and his wounds were open, fresh, and bleeding profusely. Robin felt lightheaded. If he didn't treat his wounds, he would die before they got within city limits.

"It's a shame, really," said the sheriff, licking the blood off his fingers as Robin groaned in agony. "You won't be in prime condition for your execution. But it is of no matter. Prince John will be pleased." He nodded his head, and one of the guards shoved Robin forward.

"Walk, traitor." the guard grunted.

Robin obeyed, walking in pain to his death while Marian wailed alone in Sherwood Forest.

* * *

><p><strong>Sly<strong>

Sly's head hit the ground first. He grunted in pain, the rest of his body landing with equal discomfort. Dazed, he got to his knees, shaking his head to clear the pain for a moment. He stood upright, still a bit confused, and looked around him. He was in a forest. That's all he knew. He didn't know how deep into the forest he had fallen, where the nearest point of civilization was located, whether or not predators were already making their move to turn him into dinner.

"Bentley, it didn't work," Sly spoke into his earpieec as he looked around, trying to make sene of the situation. "This doesn't look like my intended location." Static was all he heard. "Bentley, I'm not where I want to be. Do you read me?" Static burned his ears. Sly didn't like this. He was alone and vulnerable to anything that was already waiting to pounce on. He knew he needed to get to higher ground, or he would risk getting killed. He looked at the canopy above him. _That'll do,_ he thought to himself. He ran towards the nearest tree trunk and scaled it easily, crouching along its branches as he worked his way to the next tree.

Something made him stop before traversing to the next tree. There was a scent. Someone had been here, and they weren't too far away. He may have gotten lucky after all. Sly inhaled deeply, looking for the origin of the trail. He sniffed rapidly three times. It seemed to be emanating from the branch across from him. Sly hopped over to the branch opposite him and investigated. He sniffed again, and it confirmed his suspicions. A…fox had been here. _But how?_ Sly knew it to be nearly impossible if not completely impossible for foxes to climb trees. He thought of Carmelita. _Unless…unless it was bipedal._ But that was ridiculous. Sure, he was a raccoon on two feet, but a _fox_ on two feet? In a forest? The chances of that happening were almost impossible. But Sly knew this wasn't a hoax; a two-legged fox had been here, and had then taken off in a hurry. Sly had to find this thing if he wanted a chance at survival. He sniffed again. The trail was leading to the next tree. He leaped across the gap separating the scent.

Sly sniffed this tree, as well. From what he could gather, the fox had continued onward through the trees, and it had been on the move. _But why?_ Sly thought to himself._ From a predator? Not likely. Prey? No. Foxes pounce when they have the chance. Ah. Danger. There we go. Not a predator, but danger nonetheless. The question is, what was he running from? Why would he be so quick to leave?_ Intrigued, Sly stayed on the trail, keeping the high ground so he could quickly spot trouble. The scent had started to dissipate. Sly had to move, or he would risk losing the only thing that may help him survive. He took great leaps across the treetops, never slowing down, his head staying on a straight, parallel line as the rest of his body propelled him forward. The scent was getting stronger. He was close! Sly kicked on his afterburners, hope for survival driving him. It took its toll, however. After a while, Sly began to tire, sweat dripping down his face as he gasped for air. He stopped abruptly, just barely saving himself from falling out of the next tree. His chest rose and fell vigorously, and he gulped oxygen as he began to recover. He looked at the canteen buckled around his waist, contemplating whether he should drink. Suddenly, he heard a commotion to his right. It sounded like a man and a woman, but there were more than two pairs of feet disturbing the ground. Sly jumped across the next three trees to his right. He was relieved to see a path. That meant that he was close to a city, or a town, or something where people lived. He climbed out onto a limb, hoping to get a better view of what was happening.

Sly took his binoculars from his neck and put them to his eyes. Finally, he had figured out what he was chasing. A two-legged fox _had _been there. He was dressed in forest green clothing, and he had a matching hat with a red feather in it. He was cuffed and chained and seemed to have been taken prisoner by…a wolf? _What the hell is going on here?_ Two bipedal canines? And spear-clad rhinos? Sly shook his head and closed his eyes. He opened them again. No, it was real. Apparently, the fox was a fugitive of some sort, and the wolf was a police officer or something. _But that's not right,_ Sly thought to himself. _Woodland creatures don't even have a code of conduct, let alone spears. Am I in some twisted heaven?_ But Sly saw another person. A female fox in a dress was trying to talk to the wolf, apparently pleading for the other fox's life.

"Let him go! He's done nothing wrong!" she said in a British accent. _Damn_, he said, adjusting his binoculars to look at her._ Carmelita better not screw up, cause I have options._

"Nothing? You call thievery and betrayal to the crown nothing?" the wolf shot back with the same accent. _What the hell?!_ Sly couldn't believe what he had just heard. _ A crown? We have fucking royalty in the forest now? And if that wasn't enough, this pompous prick's got a really short fuse. That fox must have really gotten in trouble._

"He's standing against a tyrant! We have the right to do that!" the female yelled defiantly.

"You can stop right there, ma'am," the wolf replied menacingly, "or I'll arrest you, as well! And you know what happens to people who go against the word of the prince." His rhino accomplices jeered and laughed evilly as they approached Sly's tree.

"You can't kill him!"

"Yes, we can, ma'am!" The wolf got in her face. "We have the warrant, and now we're going to set an example for the townsfolk so they know what they will face if they are disloyal to the crown!"

_Okay, you can't let this happen, Cooper,_ Sly said to himself. _It doesn't matter what that fox did. He isn't being taken captive by this insensitive bastard._ He opened his canteen and took a swig of water, refreshing himself before the battle he would start. As he screwed the cap back on, the last of the three rhino guards passed underneath him. As he walked by, Sly let himself carefully out of the tree, so as not to make them aware of his presence. As he sneaked up on the guard, he noticed a sheathed knife on the guard's belt. If Sly could pull it off, he would be able to stab this guard, then throw his knife at the guard farthest away, leaving him to deal with the monkey in the middle before he reached the sheriff. With his plan in mind, Sly attacked. He felt the knife go clean through his opponent, blood spraying out of both sides of the wound. Sly grabbed the sheathed knife, and as the rest of the party turned around, he threw it at the guard closest to the male fox. The guard caught the knife with his throat, his spurting blood flying so far that it almost splattered on Sly as the victim clawed at his neck, his life-giving liquid rapidly escaping his body.

* * *

><p><strong>Robin<strong>

Robin caught a face full of blood from the guard with the knife in his throat. He could feel it in his mouth, and he closed it promptly, not wanting to taste any more of the sticky red stuff. He had no idea who was attacking Prince John's men, but they were either really brave or really stupid. As Robin lost his balance and tripped over the body of the gurgling guard, he saw a blue and gray blur whiz past him, carrying a yellow stick. The last guard had already thrust his spear at the attacker, who almost bent over completely backwards as he dodged it. With that, the stranger got behind the guard, grabbed his head with one hand above and one below, and twisted it, the guard's meat-covered spine now poking through his left shoulder in a mess of blood.

As Robin spat out the blood in his mouth, he could now clearly make out who had killed these men so quickly. It was a raccoon on two feet. How was that possible? He didn't even know raccoons lived in Sherwood Forest. He had certainly never had any run-ins with them. Whatever the case, this raccoon was talking to the sheriff, and Robin heard him without a hindrance.

"And as for you," said the raccoon with a colonial accent as he snapped his fingers and pointed at the sheriff, who was clearly intimidated. "I'm going to give you one minute to run as fast and as far as your skinny legs can carry your fat ass. If I can still see you after that minute is up, I will cut your dick off with your own claws and make you eat it with fork and knife." The raccoon stayed there with his arms folded, silent. After a few seconds, he made a shooing motion at the sheriff with his hands. "Go on," he said in a British voice. "Fuck off." Robin could have sworn he heard the word "fuck." What did that mean? Was it witchcraft? No, it couldn't be? That man would have killed them all with magic if he were a witch. Robin watched the sheriff run like there was no tomorrow. He didn't even stop to pick up his hat when it fell off. Back to Prince John's lap he ran, not looking back even once. Robin knew the sheriff was equally confused, but he got the gist.

"Good riddance, bitch," the raccoon said victoriously. He turned around and took notice of Robin. "Oh. Sorry," he apologized, walking toward the thief. "I guess it's not much of a rescue if you're still chained up, huh?" Robin could feel a blade against his wrists as the raccoon cut him free of his bonds.

"Man, that guy could have done better with these cuffs. Don't use roots for bonds, stupid. They never work." The raccoon paused. "I'm not sure how to remove that neck brace he gave you. This is probably the best I can do right now"

Robin heard Marian join the raccoon behind his back. "Oh! Oh, thank you, sir!" she cried.

"No problem, milady," the raccoon replied. "Justice was asleep. Luckily, I got here in time to wake it up." Robin got to his knees, then turned around and faced his savior and his love. The raccoon was wearing blue. He had a blue beret and a blue shirt to match. He wore gray sweat pants, it seemed, and black shoes. He had a crooked scepter with a golden curve at the top. Everything was covered in blood.

"Hey there, buddy," the raccoon said, panting but smiling in a friendly way. "You still got control of your hands? No corruption in the blood flow?"

Robin was suspicious. This had to be a trick. Nobody ever appeared out of nowhere to save his life excepting Little John. Whoever this was, Robin had a bad feeling about him. He couldn't be trusted. "Let's find out," Robin replied. He grabbed hold of the raccoon's throat with both hands as he heard Marian squeal in horror. His savior now became strangled prey under his firm grasp. Robin pushed him over onto the ground, and as the raccoon hit, he lost more of his precious air, now struggling even more for life. Robin's shoulder throbbed in pain, but it mattered little. Drops of blood fell on the raccoon's face.

"Who are you? Did Prince John send you? ANSWER ME!" Robin demanded as the feeble attempts to pry his hands from the raccoon's throat became weaker and weaker.

"He can't answer if you're choking him, Robin!" Marian pointed out with a tone of urgency. Robin knew she was right. He immediately felt as if he had been possessed. He rapidly withdrew his hands, and the raccoon retched and coughed, curling into a ball as he hacked his lungs out. Robin stood up and looked at his palms in horror and disbelief. "Oh God Almighty," he said quietly. He couldn't believe what he had done. He had almost ended the life of an ally without thinking. He turned to Marian.

"Marian," he pleaded for his love to give him an answer, "what have I become?"

"Robin, you acted rashly," Marian replied, pecking him on the cheek. "You're no less than the man you were yesterday."

Robin could hear that the stranger's breath was coming much easier now, and he turned to see him getting up, massaging his throat.

"I apologize," said Robin, taking his hat off and bowing. As he put it back on his head, he continued talking. "I've lived in Sherwood Forest since I was a child, and I've learned that it is often worth it to be wary. Are you faring better?"

"Yeah. I get it, buddy," the raccoon responded. "My…line of work calls for caution, as well."

"Allow me to ask in a less threatening way. What is your name, man?"

"Sly," came the response. "Sly Cooper."

Robin extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Sly Cooper."

Sly shook his hand twice, then said, "I'm sorry. I heard Sherwood Forest, but did you tell me your name?"

"No, I don't believe I did. They call me Robin Hood."


	3. Meeting the Merry Men

**Chapter 3**

**Meeting the Merry Men**

* * *

><p><strong>Sly<strong>

Sly's eyes grew wide as he felt a sudden rush of disbelief. There was no way that this could be Robin Hood. And yet, the math added up. He was in trouble with the law, he talked like a bona fide seventeenth century British gentleman, and he even dressed the part.

"Y...You're Robin Hood?" he stuttered.

"You know me?" the fox asked.

"Oh my God. This is worse than I thought." Sly sat down in the grass, pondering what had happened to him.

"I'm not quite sure I understand," Robin said in a confused tone.

"It's a long story. But you're seriously Robin Hood?" Sly blurted out suddenly. "No kidding?"

"Yes," Robin said, as if Sly was missing something obvious. "But I still have difficulty making sense of your dialect. How did you come to be here?"

"So this must be Maid Marian!" Sly said, looking to the female for confirmation.

"Yes," replied Maid Marian. Robin looked at Sly as if he were a demon that had appeared out of thin air.

Sly gave a low whistle. "Wow. This is coincidental and ironic at the same time," he said to himself while thinking, _So much for options_. "Where are your merry men?"

Robin gave him a look. "My what?"

"You know, the guys you live in the forest with."

"Oh. Yes, they are happy all the time, but they never call themselves 'merry men.'"

Suddenly, Sly realized what had happened. He had just made history by becoming the first person to call them the merry men. _Crap,_ he thought, _I just changed history._

"Well, all niceties aside, I suppose I'm in your debt," Robin continued. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up. Little John has a big heart, but nobody can bribe that cursed sheriff. Little John would be dead before he said a word." Robin nodded his head. "Thank you."

"Please, it's just part of the job. I see somebody doing something unjust, so I give them a warning, as you just saw. If he does this again, he won't be as lucky as he was this time. Speaking of lucky..." Sly nodded towards Robin's shoulder. "I can get you something for that." He took his pack off his shoulders, opened it, and pulled out some cloth. Robin held his arm out so that Sly had access to his shoulder. Sly wrapped it around Robin's wound twice and tied in a tight knot. He offered his hand to Robin, who took it with his uninjured arm, allowing Sly to pull him up, but groaning in pain on the way.

"As much fun as it is to chat, we should retreat deeper into the forest now," said Robin, still looking at his shoulder in curiosity. "I've never freely wandered this close to the village, and for good reason. Prince John's archers are extremely accurate, even from this distance." He made an expression with his hand, motioning Sly to follow him. "Come along, then. I think you might want to meet the 'merry men,'" he made quotations with his hands when he said "merry men," "and I'm certain they'd be pleased to have another member among the ranks."

"If we're caught between an arrow to the chest and Sherwood Forest, I'll take the forest," said Sly.

Robin chuckled. "I believe we're going to get along just fine, Sly Cooper. Follow me." He turned to Marian, and Sly heard him whisper something in her ear. They kissed briefly, then Marian walked back towards the village. Robin turned to Sly again. "Come on. Follow."

Sly obeyed, and they walked side by side through the forest. It was quiet for a few minutes, and the only sound accompanying them was the crunch of earth underneath their feet. He took it all in. Sherwood Forest in all its glory, walking next to the Holy Grail of thievery. After a while, Robin asked Sly a question that seemed to be out of nowhere.

"Are you a colonist?"

"A who?" Sly asked, confused.

"A colonist," repeated Robin. "From…Now what was that place called? Oh, yes. From the New World?"

"How about I put it this way: I'm from way out of town."

"Anyone could tell that the minute they saw you. Pardon my bluntness, but with dress sense like that, I can tell you don't live in England. You didn't answer my question. Are you a colonist?"

"No, I'm not," Sly replied. "I'm just a traveler, never sure where I'm going."

"You're a nomad, then?" Robin said, breaking the straight line they had been following.

"Call me what you want, but that's the gist of it." Sly followed Robin's movement in a way similar to airplane squadrons.

"I'm sorry, did you say, 'the _gist_?'"

_Dammit, Sly! Think Renaissance! We don't need to mess up Earth's timeline!_ "Pay no attention. I have a speaking disorder," Sly said, thinking quickly.

"Like stuttering?"

"Like filling in common phrases with terms that haven't come into existence yet."

"But they come into existence when you say them."

"Exactly. At the basics, I invent phrases and terms." Sly stopped trying to find alibis for being beamed back into the past. "It's complicated."

"Ah, a poet. Say, would you help me express my love to Marian through words?"

"Well, I'm not a poet, but I can definitely help you."

"Thank you, Sly," Robin said. "It's odd. I can create lyrics of metaphors and the questions in life like the world encourages us to do, but when it comes to love…" He sighed. "I can't express it. Have you ever loved, Sly?"

"Well, there's one woman," said Sly.

"Are you two close?" Robin asked. "Is she living with you?"

"We just got separated. She's somewhere else, but we still communicate."

"Nothing can hold true love back, Sly Cooper. Remember that. It's saved my life more than once. Oh, and I heard you utter a few words which I am curious about. What do you mean when you say 'fuck?'"

"Oh, yeah," Sly said, inwardly kicking himself. _How should I put it?_ "It basically means, uh..." He raised his middle finger, pointing it away from Robin so if he did understand the meaning, he wouldn't get angry.

"Ah. So it means 'finger.'" Robin had a confused look on again. "But...how does 'finger off' mean anything?"

_Oh, God, this is hopeless._ Sly tried another tactic. "It's the verbal way to say..." He made a circle with his index finger and thumb, then poked his other index finger through it.

"Why are you pointing at your hand?" came the reply.

Sly sighed heavily. "Forget it. It's not important."

"This is what you were talking about, Sly? Your creation of words? Stop here." Robin halted abruptly. "We've made it back safely. I'll need to call them out of hiding. It's a necessary precaution." He bent down, reached out in front of him, and pulled away a net covered with leaves, a trick of deception to anyone attempting to harm Robin or his friends. Beneath the false forest bottom lay a carefully cut square of rock, ensuring a trespasser wouldn't fall right into the operation. Robin picked it up, straining slightly under its weight, and moved it to the side just enough for him to stick his muzzle into the rabbit hole beneath.

"It is I, Robin!" Robin called out to the depths of the ground below. "And I bring glad tidings!"

"How now, Robin!" the ground answered in a hearty voice. "Glad tidings are short in these times! Come, come!"

Robin turned to Sly. "We're outcasts, as you may have noticed," he grinned, sliding the rock back to create a man-sized hole. "Forgive me if the safety measures are an annoyance." He submerged his lower half, his elbows bent at ninety degrees as he talked to Sly.

"Don't worry," Sly chuckled. "I have more than enough experience with safety measures."

"You're just like me, my friend," a smiling Robin said. "Oh, and don't forget to drape the covering over the rock before you put it back into position." With that, he raised his hands above his head, allowing himself to drop out of sight. Anxious for the childhood myth to be born, Sly followed, not sure what he was getting into.

* * *

><p><strong>Robin<strong>

Home sweet home at last. Robin felt a rush of relief engulf him from ears to tail, a sensation that drained the weariness from his bones. They were nearing safe waters, a haven in which they could rest. Robin walked down the long, narrow passage crudely carved by both his and Little John's hands. The torches lit his way, allowing him to see where he was going. A figure was standing a few meters away from him.

"Is that you, Friar?" he asked.

"Robin!" came the joyous reply.

"Ah, Friar Tuck," Robin said, arms open. The friar bear hugged him. "How have we been faring?"

"Everybody seems to be holding up. Though, Little John is nowhere to be found," the badger said in a worried voice. "Oh, and who is this?"

Robin turned around and saw Sly drawing near. "This is Sly Cooper, the one who rescued me from the sheriff," he explained. "I would have been at the chopping block by now if he hadn't swooped in and saved the day."

"Well, now you have two Little Johns you can call upon if the first ever returns," Friar Tuck said, laughing. Robin joined in. As Robin thought about it, Sly had a point. They really _were_ merry men. "Well, allow us passage, if you please," said Robin to the friar.

"Of course, of course. Let's have our guest meet the men," the friar said jovially. Robin followed the friar.

"We take shifts guarding our hideaway," he explained to Sly. "It's an effective method. Of course, when the scheduled member is missing, the friar is always more than happy to help. Little John was guarding today."

"So why isn't Little John here?" Sly asked from behind.

Then a thought hit Robin. Little John knew better than to leave his post. Why would he run and tell Robin about the sheriff and Marian, then run off in a different direction? It didn't add up. But Robin shook his head. There had to be another explanation. Of course! Little John did not want to risk revealing the hideout in case somebody was following him. Turning back would have made it too easy for a tail to find them. Little John was always paranoid about being captured. But Robin never knew why. Even if the sheriff caught them, he couldn't do much to stop a thousand pounds of angry bear racing towards him. And Little John was more agile than his large belly let on.

"Robin? Did you hear me?" came Sly's voice again as they journeyed deeper into the hollowed-out underground.

"Oh, I apologize," Robin said rapidly. "I was just contemplating Little John's motives. Well, allow me to explain what had happened before you swooped me from death's leathery claws. You see, I'm an outlaw."

"As if he hadn't already noticed, eh, Robin?" guffawed the friar.

"Ah, indeed," Robin gave a breathy chuckle. "In any case, the entire town of Nottingham is after me. They can never turn down money, but luckily, Maid Marian is my spy in plain sight. Oh, and the children seem to help, as well. Prince John never could stand children crying. In fact, the sheriff has a scar where John beat him after he killed a woman in front of her child."

"I take it he's a full-time ass," replied Sly.

"If my execution orders don't confirm that, I don't know what will. In any case, he had taken Marian hostage. Now, whenever somebody tries to harm someone I care about, I react rather violently. Little John came from this hiding spot, told me of the situation, then kept running so as not to give them an idea of where our home here was located. I took to the trees, and upon finding the sheriff's party, took a hostage of my own. My attempt was unsuccessful, and the sheriff apprehended both of us. Well, Marian was unchained and cleared of her false crimes, because I was the prime target."

"I told you to stop saying the earth was round, Robin," the friar said, then broke out in laughter that echoed across the tunnel. Robin joined in, laughing just as heartily.

"Apologies," Robin sighed after a few minutes, wiping a tear from his eye. "We love to laugh. The sheriff had almost reached the city limits when you arrived. A few more minutes of knocking about and I would be dead."

"Well, I'm just glad I got there when I did," came Sly's voice from behind.

"You and I both," said Robin.

"Ah, we're almost there!" said the friar happily. "I can see the stone about fifty meters away!"

"Lead the way, good friar," Robin said as he felt a wave of happiness slam into him. It had just occurred to him that he needed sustenance. "Was anyone successful on their hunt?"

"I believe Daniel acquired a deer. I myself gathered berries. The Lord is with us, Robin."

"Yes, he is." Robin looked over his shoulder and attempted to talk to Sly. "Are you a hunting man, Sly Cooper?"

"If I'm honest, Robin, not with a bow and arrow," came the response.

"Ah, you prefer to get dirty," Robin said.

"You could say that."

"Well, you must want to learn, eh?" Robin said with gusto.

"Maybe," Sly chuckled. "I have a recurve bow, but that's it."

"A...recurve bow?" Robin asked in curiosity.

"We've arrived, Robin," the friar. "Would you mind lending a hand? My strength is not what it used to be."

"Of course, friar." Robin walked up and placed his hands on the stone, spreading his fingers for a better grip. He leaned to the left, groaning with strain as his les began to shake. Sweat beaded on his forehead. After a few seconds of pain and endurance, Robin managed to open up a hole big enough to squeeze through. Robin bowed down, sweeping his hat off his head and allowing the friar passage. He put his hat back on as Sly made his way through the rock and the end of the passage. Robin took one last look behind him to see if anybody was following them, then walked out.

* * *

><p><strong>Sly<strong>

The bright sun caused Sly to shield his eyes momentarily as they adjusted to the light level. They had stumbled out into more forest, but no signs of life were present. The friar was already on his way, at least ten meters in front of the cave. Sly lowered his hand, feeling more comfortable now that he could see. Perfect. He wasn't any more lost than before he had gone underground, and he was losing a footrace to a badger.

"So I don't see anything new, Robin," he said, turning around to watch the fox strain as he closed the gap between rock and tunnel. "What was the purpose of that passageway, exactly?"

"It's much faster than trying to evade all of the hidden dangers of the forest," came the explanation. "I learned that we needed a new way to travel after a squirrel latched onto my ear." Robin walked past Sly, putting his right hand around the latter's shoulder and strolling with him. "That's the best part of being in the forest. You learn from your mistakes quickly."

"I'm sure there are other circumstances in which you can learn from mistakes, Robin."

"Well, for me, prison would be too late to learn. This tyranny they call the law wants me dead as quickly as possible, not to mention as painfully as possible." Sly must have had a look of disappointment on his face, because Robin said, "Cheer up, Sly! We've almost made it! You'll be laughing with the merry men by dusk!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I will be…" Sly looked at the ground as he walked, suddenly struck by a feeling of sadness. He had had this happen to him before, but that was two thousand years from Carmelita's time. They had the tech to warp him back. In this time period, advanced technology was defined as a crossbow. Worse, Bentley wasn't able to contact him. Sly had no idea what would happen. He may just be stuck in Sherwood Forest for the rest of his life.

"Are you faring well, Sly?" came Robin's worried voice.

Sly brought his gaze back up and looked into Robin's concerned eyes. He smiled.

"I'm fine," he said.

"There's something you're not telling me. I can help, Sly," Robin said with emotion.

"Robin, now's…not the time. I'll tell you tomorrow, after I get acquainted with everything. Deal?" He held his hand out to the fox.

Robin shook Sly's hand. "Okay," he said quietly.

"Thanks," Sly sighed. Suddenly, his ears picked up laughter and music not too far away.

"Ah! We've arrived!" Robin said joyously. "We've set up right behind that large rock over there." He motioned towards a boulder about seven meters high.

Sly looked at the colossal rock. "It must have taken a while for you guys to hollow it out."

Robin laughed as they drew nearer. "No. I mean to say, we live _behind_ the rock."

"That's making more sense."

"I'm glad. You're learning, and that's a start."

"Well, if it's a start, I'd love to see how it ends."

"You have the right state of mind, Sly. I wish I could say the same for our city." They were now near enough to Robin's men that they could hear individual conversations. "I'm going to grab their attention. Watch this," Robin winked. He turned, cupped his hands to his mouth, and hollered, "I have returned, you scoundrels!"

His cry was met with cheers and a sea of men rushing to meet the two. Sly was impressed. They came when he called. _Hell, they even wear the same clothes! Well, more or less. Robin has shorter pants._ For all Sly knew, Robin could tell them to turn themselves into the sheriff and they'd do it in a heartbeat. The wave of forest animals, mainly canine in species, swarmed Robin with joyous whooping and pats on the back. Sly grinned and chuckled through his nose. He wished he could have this level of devotion from his allies. Suddenly, something slammed into him about the stomach and knocked him to the ground. Winded, Sly took a deep breath just before he felt the tip of a sharp object pressing on his throat. A large, muscular tiger had one knee on Sly's chest, and his opposite foot was planted into the ground. His hand held the blade that would decide Sly's fate.

"Who are you?" the feline growled in a British accent.

"Damn it! Not this again!" Sly cried out in exhaustion. He felt more pressure being applied on the dagger.

"Who…are…you?" the tiger asked again, his whiskers twitching.

"He's with me, Rolan! He's an ally!" Robin cried, grabbing the tiger's shoulder. "My half-eaten corpse would be strewn in the forest if he hadn't intervened with the sheriff!" Rolan looked into Robin's eyes, then back down to Sly, whose adrenalin was rushing.

"If you say so, Robin," he said, taking the blade away from Sly's throat. He offered his hand to Sly, who accepted it and was pulled to his feet rapidly.

"I do apologize for my hastiness," Rolan continued, sheathing his knife. "One gets rather paranoid when he or his friend is constantly being hunted by the unjust law."

"No, don't worry," said Sly, panting as he massaged his throat. "Stay paranoid. You got something working for you there."

"I'll keep it in mind, stranger," Rolan replied. "Are you a thief, like us?"

"Yes, I am. I've heard of you guys before."

"And he's given us the perfect name," Robin added.

"Really?" asked Rolan, turning to Sly. "Do tell."

"The merry men," Sly said with uncertainty. His words were met with loud, hearty laughter.

"The merry men!" Rolan gasped out between chuckles. "Oh, that's rich! Robin Hood and his merry men!" The laughter started again. Sly was blown away by the reaction. Merry now sounded conservative.

"Do tell us," said Robin. "How did you hear of us?"

Sly immediately got serious. "I guess there's no better time to tell you," he said with a straight face. "Where I come from, you guys are a legend."


	4. Enjoying Bad Company

**Chapter 4**

**Enjoy the Company**

* * *

><p><strong>Robin<strong>

"So, allow me to wrap my head around this," Robin said, his hand supporting his chin as he fought to understand what Sly was telling him. "You are from the future. That much is certain." The raccoon nodded in confirmation. Robin continued. "What you're telling me is that in the future, I am a legend of good that inspires rebellion from unfair government and rule?"

"That's a good way to put it," said Sly, pulling out a black stick and pressing a button on it. It filled the tent with light. "You even became an example for the laws for the New World colonies, eventually. The legend of Robin Hood, they call it."

Robin looked down at the ground in awe. "Good heavens, I must have eaten some poisoned venison at dinner. Your words make sense, but…" He shook his head. "It's too much for me to process at once. I've called myself many things: a roamer, a vagabond, a wanderer…but_ legend_!" Robin said, savoring the word on his tongue as he stared up at the roof of the tent.

"I figured you might have that reaction," said Sly. "I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong." He looked around the inside of their tent. "Though the Boy Scout ambience I could get used to."

Robin tilted his head to one side and smacked his opposite ear. He thought he heard the phrase "Boy Scout." It must have been something from the future.

"I'm sorry, what's a Boy Scout?" he inquired of Sly. "And what are you holding?"

"Oh, it's a…future New World thing," Sly said, waving his hand indifferently. "They both are. The Boy Scouts are a wilderness survival group. And this is a flashlight. It gives you light when there isn't any around you."

"Tell me more about this story of Robin Hood," Robin requested.

"Well, I was told that there was once a man with a morally straight mind who called himself Robin Hood who lived in Nottingham. Robin Hood was a boy when Prince John came to power, and Prince John wasn't the nicest person. He made unfair decisions on tax, labor, and so on. Now, Robin hated injustice, but he couldn't do anything as a child, because he lacked the resources to rebel. So Robin ran away, not wanting to return to Nottingham.

"Robin quickly got himself lost in Sherwood Forest. He was wandering around when an arrow whizzed by him, barely avoiding his ear. Then a large figure came out of a bush. It was a man, and he seemed to be friendly. Upon meeting the man, Robin discovered his name was Little John. Robin was uncomfortable with the fact that his savior from the dangers of the wilderness shared the name of a tyrannical ruler that now lorded the people he knew. Nonetheless, Robin accepted the help of Little John.

"Now, Little John was an ironic name for this man, because he was rather large. Robin estimated that he weighed over two hundred pounds and was seven feet tall."

"Feet?" Robin asked in disbelief, looking at his moccasins.

"No, not feet as in the body part. Feet is the New World equivalent of the measurement just below one meter. So about two meters, give or take a tenth of meter."

"Oh, that makes sense now," Robin said. "Accurate as well, I must admit. Continue."

"So, Little John was much easier to find this way. If Robin ever lost himself, Little John could be seen from a long distance away. After they met, Little John began to teach Robin Hood how to survive in the forest. He showed him how to skin prey, how to move swiftly and silently, and taught him how to distinguish different mushrooms and berries in order to determine if something was edible or not. Robin quickly became a skilled marksman, and Little John felt comfortable letting Robin roam free in the forest. But Robin didn't want to leave Little John. The bond they had formed was too strong. Little John was happy to keep Robin alongside him, and it stayed that way."

Robin knew this to be true; the story was very close to the actual events. He was surprised that a myth could linger for 400 years and still be close to unwaveringly accurate.

"Then Robin thought of the reason he had run away in the first place," Sly kept talking. "He had wanted to escape the clutches of the unfair ruler, Prince John. But the whole of Nottingham should receive the same chance, after all. Now, the people of Nottingham wouldn't easily be able to say goodbye to their homes and live in the forest as Robin had, so he began to get crafty. Using the techniques he learned from Little John, Robin began to steal money from wealthy travelers and gave it to underprivileged families, either by leaving them sacks of gold in their homes at night, or sneaking into the town as a blind beggar. He repeated the same action day after day, changing disguises so the guards at the gate wouldn't get suspicious. And the amazing part is this: nobody ever knew his true identity, because no one could find the body and match it with birth records. He died both a common thief and a hero, and his legend lives on even today." Sly seemed to have a second thought. "Of course, when I say today, I mean four or five hundred years from now."

Robin was deeply touched by the story. So this is what became of all of his work. He was a myth that drove people toward the common good. He felt a tear roll down his muzzle as he bounced Sly's words around in his head, staring at the ground.

"Robin didn't want to leave Little John…Nottingham should receive the same chance…no one could find the body…his legend lives on." The future had been revealed to Robin. He was to save Nottingham from the clutches of Prince John's evil rule. History told it, and history was never wrong.

"Hey. Hey, Robin," he heard Sly's voice as a hand shook him lightly on the shoulder. Robin looked up, and Sly's face met his gaze, a look of concern beneath the blue beret. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Robin said small voice. "Yeah," he repeated himself, louder this time. "I'll be fine." He stood up. "I just remembered I have to be somewhere. You'll manage on your own?"

"Course," came the reply. "Story of my life."

"Good. Try and get some shut eye. You look like you'll have a pleasant rest the minute you close your eyes."

"Time travel has that effect on a person. Just manage some sleep yourself, all right, Robin?"

"You have my word," said Robin. With that, he opened the tent flap and walked out. As he looked around, the forest was darker than he had remembered. But he thought of Sly's light-giving device and decided it must have messed around with his night vision. Robin walked straight, heading to the river where they gathered water. He had quite a walk, one he didn't want to make by ground. Robin dug his claws into the nearest tree and began to climb, quickly getting himself onto the branches. He paused for a moment in order to rest and shake his arms, then jumped to the next tree, his powerful legs allowing him to clear the gap comfortably. He moved with fluid motion, never once seeming to second guess a movement.

At the last tree he could perch on before being forced to climb down to the mouth of the river, he crouched, panting slightly. He looked for signs of life. As he scanned the riverbank, he found Maid Marian sitting down, bending over the water. He watched her, smiling with happiness. He basked in her beauty while she sat there, waiting for him. He came to his senses. It wasn't like him to keep someone waiting. Making sure his grip on the branch was strong, he let his body hang from the tree. He dropped down silently, not yet alerting Marian to his presence, and slowly walked towards her. She snapped around as she heard his footsteps.

"Oh, it's you," she said in a relieved voice, getting to her feet. "I thought some of Prince John's men followed me here."

"Well, they didn't," Robin told her as she came closer. "Otherwise, I'd have had to wash off before I came down."

"You were behind as it is. At least you made it," she replied, walking into his open arms. "You know, they've doubled security since the sheriff made it back. They talk of the 'Sky Thief.' By word of the sheriff's mouth, the posters read 'known to bring sudden death from above.'"

Robin laughed quietly, looking at reflection of the moonlight in the river. "He does seem to have that effect." He looked into Marian's eyes. "It's a wonder how he traveled. He says he's from the future, and that he came here because an invention went horribly wrong."

"What? Robin, your words tell me you've changed. It seems that you know what you're talking about," she replied in an urgent tone, her hand cupping his neck about the nape. Robin cherished the movement of her thumb across his cheek. "Don't tell me you've changed, Robin. I'll always love you, but if I can't understand you-"

"When you love somebody, it doesn't matter how they say it as long as they say it." Robin pulled her closer, able to feel her racing heartbeat. "I always know what you're saying, even if I can't understand you. That's how much I love you, Marian." Their noses touched, and Robin said quietly, "Are you ready to declare the same of yourself?"

"I already have," Marian whispered, and she pressed her lips against his. Robin succumbed, and he closed his eyes as he felt a deep sense of love infect his body, spreading from his heart and reaching the tips of his fingers. His heart was throbbing with emotion, and he was shaking slightly, overwhelmed by Marian's affection. He felt her arms leave his back, and she leaned on him, making him fall gently and controllably to the ground. Her lips went slack as she pulled her head away. Robin lay there, his eyes still closed as his chest rose and fell slightly. Suddenly, Marian's fingers were on his chest, unlacing his shirt. He opened his eyes and saw that she was already completely undressed.

"Do you need help there, Robin?" she said, unraveling the last lace on his shirt.

"Never has taking a shirt off felt so good," he replied, shaking it free from his arms as he felt a breeze below his waist. Marian threw his shorts over her shoulder and gently, slowly sat down on him, letting a gasp escape from her mouth. Robin became more excited, and he placed his hands on her lower back, groaning. This is where he was supposed to be. This was the place that would forever give him serenity. This memory would never tire. He closed his eyes as he moaned, Marian's every move driving him further to the point of no return.

_**Forty-five minutes later…**_

Robin still wasn't completely relaxed. Even after he had given Marian his love, he felt she may have been unsatisfied as she lay on his arm by the river, curled in a ball and placing her hand in the tuft of fur on his chest. Looking at the stars, he asked her.

"Are you-" he began.

"If you have exhausted yourself for the night, Robin, there's no need to ask," she cut him off. Robin closed his open mouth, raising his eyebrows at the stars. He thought of Sly, who was likely wondering where he was.

"Marian, that man who saved me. He's with us now. He dubbed us the Merry Men. I should get back. He'll be wondering where I went." Marian got to her feet, leaving Robin lying on the ground with his hand stretched in an awkward position. He immediately felt a sense of guilt. "Marian, I-"

"No, don't," she replied. "You're right. I should probably get back, too. The sheriff has a curfew now. Thanks to your friend."

"I'll tell him you appreciate it."

Marian smiled at him. "Good night, Robin."

"Good night," he replied. Marian walked off into the forest, quickly disappearing from view in the black of night. As Robin watched her go, he felt he was letting a part of himself go with her. He wished they could live together. Maybe if Sly's arrival changed the tides of rule in Nottingham, he might finally come out of the forest a hero. He turned around and walked back to the Merry Men, thinking of the events he had just taken part of. As he walked, he could feel the warm air ripple through his fur. It felt good, giving him a deeper sense of satisfaction. He decided he would go back, but he would sleep in a tree. This thought stuck in his mind, and he seemed to make it back in no time at all. Robin was confused. How did he get here so quickly? Of course. He was thinking about the breeze and Maid Marian. Turning his attention to the campground of the Merry Men, he looked at the tents, contemplating. Should he tell Sly that he wasn't going to be in the tent for the rest of the night, or should he just rest, preparing himself for whatever life had planned for him tomorrow? No, Sly would figure it out. He was smart as well as cunning. He seemed to know every strategy a thief could know. Robin climbed into a tree and lay down on a thick branch. He took one last look at the moon in all its glory, then closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Sly<strong>

"_Sly!"_

Sly jumped up, still not fully awake. He was still in Robin's tent, the darkness of the forest barely allowing him to see that this was so. Sly rubbed his eyes and groaned in exhaustion. His muscles ached from his previous encounter with the sheriff. The way down could have gone better; Sly thought he may have injured his kneecap. But for a second, he thought he heard Bentley's voice desperately calling out Sly's name through his earpiece. "Bentley!" he said quietly back, hoping Bentley would reply.

But Bentley never replied. Sly had been imagining things. Slightly disappointed, Sly laid his head back down and tried to rest. He had just closed his eyes when suddenly he heard the _crunch_ of twigs and leaves being disturbed on the forest floor. Sly snapped his eyes open and stood up inside the tent. He opened the flap and stuck his head out.

"Robin!" he called out in a carrying whisper. "You there?" There was no response from the trespasser. Sly tried again.

"Robin! Is that you?" he hissed, paranoia getting the best of him. No answers were given and no sounds were made, excepting the snoring of a few Merry Men. But Sly was overwhelmed with a feeling of uneasiness. If it was Robin, he would have replied. Something was out there, and Sly had to take care of it. Taking a moment to gather his courage, Sly walked out of his tent, completely exposing himself to whatever was out there. He decided to try one last time. "Robin," he said. "Very funny, Robin. Now get back in here." Nothing was given in terms of a reply. Sly turned around to head back, but something made him do a double glance. There was a small flame that seemed to be hovering in midair. It moved a few feet to the right, and was partially obscured for a second. Then it grew, burning something that ignited quickly. Sly now saw two levitating flames, and one was getting closer, lighting fire to the trees it flew past. _Oh, SHIT! That's a Molotov!_ Sly dove to the ground, covering his head in case the bottle landed on him. He heard glass shatter behind him and the _woosh_ of spreading flame followed.

"FIRE! FIRE!" Sly yelled, running back to his tent. "FIRE!" He ducked inside and started gathering his resources, ignoring the frantic yells of the Merry Men. His backpack contained most of his belongings, enabling him to focus on retrieving his guns, canteen, and knife. He grabbed his weapons and holstered them, then slung the canteen's strap over his shoulder, hoping to make it out before he was trapped inside. The fact that the backpack weighed over thirty pounds seemed to do nothing to hinder him; he picked it up with little difficulty and got it over both of his shoulders in record time. Knowing that he had no time to lose, he dashed back out into the campground. The blazing flames were so bright that Sly closed his eyes, a negative image of the fire burned into his vision. He felt a hand on his shoulder as he was yanked backwards. He fell to the ground, sticking his right arm out to break his fall. He stood up quickly, ready to do battle with whoever attacked him. Then he heard a familiar voice.

"Calm down, would ya? Unless you'd rather I don't save your hide!"

"Rolan?" Sly asked.

"Of course it's me!" Rolan said. "Head deeper into the forest! We'll regroup there, but for now, everybody splits up! We don't know how many they've brought, and we can't fight back!"

"Roger that!"

"Who what?"

"Never mind! I'll tell you if we live through this!" Sly took off, running through the forest as fast as he could. Stray tree branches stood in his way and cut him, but he didn't stop. He shook the pain off and kept running. But then he stopped. He had to find Robin. Sly didn't care what Rolan would do to him, but he couldn't let Robin die. Sly turned around and ran back to the camp. Every fiber of his being hoped that the fox was still alive.

"ROBIN!" he yelled. "ROBIN!"

There was no reply. The flames were visible from a distance, growing larger as Sly ran. "ROBIN!" he shouted again. Nothing seemed to be moving in the fire that was now engulfing the forest extremely quickly. Sly could only trust that Robin had made it out alive. A sudden shriek of agony pierced the night. Sly's heart fell as grief and utter despair overwhelmed him. "NO!" he yelled out, stopping in his tracks. "ROBIN!" He fell down, overwhelmed, as Robin's unearthly screams echoed through Sherwood Forest. He had failed to save the most honorable thief in the history of the world. Robin Hood had died because Sly Cooper wasn't fast enough. Sly cried silently, tears sliding down his face and onto the forest floor. He stayed there until Robin's cries faded, knowing that with their passing, the life of a hero ended in a horrific, slow, excruciating death.

The sounds of boots coming towards him jerked him back to reality. He had to get away from the fire as fast as he could, or he would be captured by the sheriff, or maybe even meet the same vile, body-melting finish as Robin had. He sprinted, not looking back. The images of Robin's burned, repulsive corpse created by Sly's mind flashed in his head as if it were right in front of him. He shook his head to clear the images away, but they kept coming back: singed fur; bloody, empty eye sockets; charred flesh revealing internal organs. Sly couldn't get rid of them; they would haunt him for the rest of his life. Somehow, Sly became faster as they appeared in his mind. The fuel of guilt was now in unlimited supply, and the tears were starting again. Sly could no longer hear his pursuers. Motivated slightly by this fact, he kept running for what seemed like hours, thought it had only been two minutes since the flames first spread.

Sly saw the Merry Men in the distance. He kept his pace, praying he wasn't the only survivor. As he approached the wall of bodies, he could see more individual figures that made it up. From what he could tell, all of the Merry Men had survived the fire. Conversations became more audible with each step Sly took.

"…waiting for Robin and the raccoon!" Sly heard the friar exclaim.

"But why? They'd have been here already! Robin's the fastest runner of us all, and the raccoon keeps up with him!" came another voice.

"There are many reasons why they might have been kept up!" Rolan's voice answered. "We don't know how many guards the sheriff brought!"

"The sheriff was there?!" a third voice cried in disbelief. Sly was now thirty meters from the Merry Men.

"Of course he was there!" Rolan said. "He wouldn't stand back and watch Robin murdered! He'd want to eat the heart!" He took notice of Sly. "Look! The raccoon draws near!"

Sly was greeted by the Merry Men with enthusiasm. Every person there was cheering and whooping. But just as abruptly as the cheering had started, it stopped. The crowd suddenly parted, and Sly saw Rolan standing in front of him.

"We're all glad you made it, friend!" Sly caught the brief, almost unnoticeable pause before Rolan's last word.

"It's Sly," he supplied.

"Okay, Sly. It's a relief you're alive. We thought you hadn't made it!"

"Please! I was the one who first noticed the fire! We'd all be dead if I hadn't been jerked awake by my imagination!"

"Well, we're still waiting on Robin," said Rolan in a serious tone. "Did you accidentally bump into him, hear his voice, anything that can tell us where he is?"

Sly's spirit fell again, the feeling of a bottomless pit in place of his heart returning to throw him into the abyss of despair. He explained everything in a solemn, shaky voice.

"You told me to run. I didn't know what to do, so I did just that – I ran. But I stopped after a while. I couldn't leave Robin's life on a whim. So I turned around and started to run back to the camp." Sly held his hand up, stopping Rolan before he could get words out of his open mouth. "I honestly don't care what you do to me for not following the rules. Put an arrow through my chest, turn me in – hell, you can gut me alive for all I care. But I couldn't take Robin's survival for granted. I ran back, shouting his name, hoping that he would answer me. I called and called into the fire, drawing nearer and nearer to it. And then he answered me." Sly closed his eyes and looked at the ground. "But it wasn't the answer I was hoping for.

"A screech pierced my ears, and I knew that it was Robin. I didn't want it to be true, but I couldn't deny what I had heard. It seemed like hours I stayed there, weeping, listening to Robin's final moments, knowing there was nothing I could do to save him. Finally, his agonizing screams died on my ears. I made it out on foot, shaking my pursuers after a chase. You want to know where Robin Hood is? He's at the campsite, posing as a charred corpse. He's been murdered in a way worse than the hangman's noose and the guillotine.

"He's dead. Robin Hood is dead."


	5. Good Man Lost

**Chapter 5**

**Good Man Lost**

Silence was abundant. Rolan stood there, his face full of disbelief, shock, and rage.

"He's dead?" he growled. "Robin's dead?" Sly felt cautious as he replied.

"There's no other explanation. He couldn't get out in time."

"Oh, I think there is an explanation," Rolan said threateningly. "After all, how convenient that you just showed up, and not twelve hours later, the greatest man in this town is dead!" He drew his sword and pointed it at Sly's throat.

"Are we really doing this again?" Sly said, a little angry. "I killed three of Prince John's men. Do you honestly think that I'm against you here?"

"Anything is possible," Rolan spat, pushing the blade to Sly's throat.

"Fine," Sly said. "I'll say it again. Robin was captured. Marian was begging for his life. I jumped in, ran one through, stabbed another in the throat, and finally snapped the neck of the third. Does that clear things up? Can you see that I'm on your team now?"

"Robin would agree with you," Rolan said, lowering his sword. "I am still untrusting, but that does not mean I will behave in an ungentlemanly manner. Let us go and see Maid Marian. She remains the only live ally who witnessed your actions."

"Yeah, let's all stay away from the sheriff. It wouldn't go over well with any of us," Sly said.

"No. Not all of us will go, just you and I. We would attract much attention otherwise. I'd like to hear of this daring rescue firsthand."

"Have it your way, Rolan," Sly replied. With that, he turned around and walked, not entirely sure where he was going, but attempting to look like he did.

"Hey, Mask!" Rolan called out.

_Mask? How many times have I heard that one before?_ Sly spun to look at Rolan.

"Nottingham's this way," came Rolan's voice.

"Oh," Sly said sheepishly as the Merry Men laughed. He walked up to Rolan. "Lead the way."

Rolan walked, and Sly followed. They followed the path back to Nottingham, something Sly thought to be suicidal.

"Why are we walking straight down the road leading there?" Sly asked. "There would be a much smaller chance of them noticing us if we stuck to the trees."

"For one, I can't climb," Rolan replied. "And two, they've got their heads in the trees so much that we could walk straight up to them and invite them to tea and they wouldn't even know it was us. Believe me, I've seen Robin do it before. Granted, he was dressed as a fortune teller, but he still did it."

"I'd hate to have him read my palm," Sly joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, they caught on eventually, but not before he had left them with just their clothes."

"Makes sense he was a fox," Sly said. "He was pretty resourceful for a thief."

"Having someone on the inside really helps, although Maid Marian does have a warrant now. Yet she keeps evading the sheriff."

"Well, running away from somebody with the IQ of a rock isn't too difficult. Try having an ex-girlfriend hunting you down."

"I never understood love. It's just an excuse to have offspring."

"_That_ sounded Satanic."

"Pardon me, but I am not a believer. The friar has tried many times to convert us, and they were to no avail. Excepting Robin."

"I'm not a believer, either," Sly responded. "And that's fine. Robin makes his own decisions. Or he did."

"I apologize for the hostility. The law makes one paranoid. I'm not sure what took me so long, but I think I can trust you now. Remind me of your name."

"Sly Cooper," Sly replied.

"Well, I'll just have to remember that next time, Sly Cooper."

"And the time after, and the time after," Sly said. "When we do end up at the gates, how far are we walking?"

"Well, that's when we take to the rooftops. Walking on the path is one thing. Walking in the lamp light is pure insanity. That is, if you're a wanted man."

"I know a thing or two about sticking to the shadows."

"There's no doubt in my mind you do."

"I take it you know I'm an outlaw."

"As if it was not obvious."

"Is being obvious a good or bad thing?"

"Do I look like I'm an enemy?"

"Do you want the right answer or the honest answer?"

"I was hoping your response would hold true to both circumstances," Rolan replied as the gates of Nottingham came into view.

"Well, I'm hoping they'll let us in," Sly said.

"Don't worry. I've done this before."

"What? Killed people?"

"No. I've used stealth to my advantage."

"And if you hadn't done this before? I'm scared to think how many times you'd have been caught if you hadn't snuck around."

"Robin taught me a few things," Rolan said. They were now a visible distance from the gate. "Hide yourself from the guards. I'll work my charisma." Sly obeyed and took cover behind a rock. He heard Rolan talking to the guards.

"Papers, please," the guard said.

"Oh, come off it," Rolan replied. "There hasn't been a need for papers since the birth of Nottingham."

"Circumstances have changed," Sly heard the guard respond. "I need to see your identification."

"Please. Those Chinese and their papyrus. It's not likely they'll start trading with us anytime soon. Where am I supposed to get papers?"

"Leave. Now," the guard commanded in a dangerous tone.

Sly heard Rolan sigh heavily. "Fine," he said. Suddenly, sounds of fighting ensued. Grunts of pain and cracking bones were plentiful. After it had died down, Sly stood back up and started moving towards Rolan, who was brushing himself off and looking at the unconscious guards.

"Is that valid identification?" he said to the unresponsive guard.

Sly looked at the gates. They would be easy to climb, a convenient alternative to scaling the castle wall. He grabbed hold of the metal gate and started to climb. In no time at all, he had reached the top and was dropping down on the inside of the castle. He turned around and looked at Rolan, who motioned towards the pulley system that opened the gate.

"I can't climb very well, and I can't get in unless you use that," he said. Sly walked over to the crank, grabbed hold, and turned it. Hand over hand was the trick as the gates slowly rose. Rolan eventually slid under, and as he got clear of the gate, Sly let go of the crank, letting the gate come back down. The two resumed walking, sticking to the shadows.

"I feel insensitive," Sly said in a low voice. "After all, her lover just got killed and we're asking her if I'm really on your guys' side?"

"I was under the impression that you knew we would tell her that he had perished," Rolan said. "Halt."

Sly did so and stopped in his tracks. They were right next to a large cottage made of stone.

"Is this where Marian lives?"

"Of course not," Rolan said. "We just need the higher ground."

Sly took the hint and jumped up, silently grabbing hold of the roof. Once he stood up, he lay flat on it, holding out his hand for Rolan to grab. He pulled Rolan up with little difficulty, though he did need to catch his breath for a few seconds. Once he recovered, he stood up.

"Are you ready to make haste?" Rolan asked.

"Let's," Sly said. Rolan silently ran across the rooftops, jumping and landing without sound. Sly followed him, using his own running style with the same results. His legs never tired, and his breath did not come short. He was used to operating at night, and locating Rolan was not difficult as he leaped rather heavily from roof to roof. Suddenly, Rolan stopped. Sly skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a collision. Rolan looked at Sly and pointed to the roof.

"This is Marian's home," Rolan said. "Oh, and one more thing. There are children living with her, and they are rather friendly. I know them for reasons you may already have guessed, but they might be a few of them might be a little reluctant to meet the new outlaw. Keep a sharp eye on Skippy, though. He shall get along with you just nicely."

"You're bringing this up _now_?" Sly asked.

"Exactly. I'd much rather warn you than have you create an unpleasant situation."

"Hey, I can talk my way out of things just as easily as the next guy."

"Well, let's get past that and do what we came here to do." Rolan dropped down on the side of the building that was void of light. Sly mimicked him, grabbing the roof before dropping down in a much gentler manner than Rolan had. Rolan was nowhere to be found. Sly carefully circled around to the front side of the house. Rolan was there, hood over his head as he stood there in the light. Sly pulled his yellow bandana over his nose, wishing he had something that was more secure. He walked up to Rolan just as the latter had quietly knocked on the door three times. The door opened a crack, and an eye peered out, wondering who was knocking at such a late hour. The eye looked around for a second, then disappeared as the door closed again. The clicks of a mechanism being unlocked were heard, and when the door opened just enough to fit Rolan's frame, the thieves entered the house. Marian was holding the door, and she closed it quickly as the end of Sly's tail made it past the doorway.

"Rolan," she whispered. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Marian, you know I would not have come unless it was extremely urgent," Rolan said in a low voice.

"What? What is it? Is it something to do with him?" Marian pointed to Sly.

"Yes. Yes, it does."

"Tell me the matter, Rolan! It's too dangerous for you to be here!"

"I just want a yes or a no, understand?" Marian nodded. "Good," Rolan continued. "Did or did you not witness Sly save the life of Robin Hood on this day?"

"Yes, yes he did," Marian nodded her head.

"I knew it!" came a little voice.

Sly whipped his head around. A small, young rabbit with a wooden sword was standing there in triumph.

"I knew he was one of us!" the young rabbit said again, louder this time.

"Skippy, quiet!" Marian shushed him. "If we talk too boisterously, we endanger our lives!" She looked at Sly. "If you would not mind, could you talk with him and keep him entertained?"

"Of course," Sly said, tipping his beret. He looked at the young rabbit named Skippy. "Let's go somewhere we can give Maid Marian and Rolan their privacy. Does that sound okay?"

The rabbit nodded. "Okay," he replied.

"Lead the way," Sly said. "You know this home better than I do." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Skippy took off, finding a room where they could converse. Sly jogged after him, certain that Skippy would tire. Eventually, Skippy sat down on a couch. Sly did the same, sitting next to him.

"Skippy, is it?" Sly inquired.

"Yes, sir," Skippy said with energy. "The next Robin Hood!" He brandished his wooden sword.

"I don't doubt that," Sly said. He had forgotten how excited kids could get.

"Are you the new thief?" Skippy asked. "Did you hurt those bad guys? Are you going to get rid of Prince John?"

"Yes, yes, and yes," Sly said. "As long as I'm stuck here, I might as well-"

"What do you mean by stuck?" Skippy butted in.

Sly sighed, trying to formulate his words so that the kid would understand. "It's a long story that I won't get into, but the thing you should know is that I come from the future." Skippy's face changed to an expression of awe. "I know it's hard to believe, but I was…using something that wasn't working right. When I tried to do something with it, zap!" He snapped his fingers. "I landed flat on my back in Sherwood Forest. That's when I picked up Robin's scent and saved him."

"You can smell people?" Skippy asked in reverence.

Sly pointed to his wet, black nose. "With just one sniff, I could tell you who lived here five years ago."

"Wow!" Skippy breathed. "You're amazing!"

"Isn't it? I was trained by one of the best trackers in the world. You see, I used to work for my government. I was a super-secret spy," Sly said in a playful, mysterious voice. "But then they didn't want me to work for them, so I didn't have a job. And then I became a master thief. And then…" He thought of Carmelita, and he sighed as a dreamy expression came over his face. "…Then, I met the love of my life."

"You mean like Robin Hood found Marian?!" Skippy asked excitedly.

"Exactly like Robin Hood and Marian," Sly replied. Suddenly, the two heard a sound that seemed to be flesh against flesh.

"_No, he isn't!_" came Marian's angered, broken voice. Sly looked over at Skippy. He felt that his eyes were a bit wider than they normally would have been. Rolan must have gotten to the part where Robin had lagged behind a second too long.

"What was that?" Skippy asked. Sly didn't want to crush the kid's heart, so he did the thing he was best at: lying.

"That was Marian…becoming rather upset in a very short amount of time. Say, Skippy, did Robin Hood ever give you anything you might want to show me? It's better that we don't disturb Marian and Rolan."

"Yeah! He gave me one of Prince John's men's bows!"


	6. Captive Secrets

**Chapter 6**

**Captive Secrets**

Sly felt himself thrown backwards into his new cell. His restrained hands could do nothing to break his fall as his head hit the cold ground just as it had when he had first entered this version of reality. This time, however, was much more painful, and the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the sheriff's menacing, twisted smile.

When he came to, it was early morning. At least, that was his best guess. His throbbing head made it difficult to be absolutely sure of anything that he was seeing. As he stood up slowly, making sure that he did not stand up too fast, he looked around him, taking in his environment. He was surrounded by stone walls on three sides; however, in front of him was a wall of thick metal bars like those of many an escaped jail cell he had broken out of, giving him a clear view into the area ahead of him. Darkness covered most of the cell, pierced by a beam of light coming in from the small sliver of air between two rocks, acting as a window. For a medieval containment unit, it was pretty advanced. _This must be the solitary confinement cell,_ Sly thought. Suddenly, he heard a cough. He whipped around, prepared to fight for his life if needed. Something moved in the darkest part of the cell. Sly heard footsteps coming towards him, and his adrenaline rushed. As the disturbance brought itself into the light, Sly was so shocked that he dropped his fists and stared in disbelief.

"Robin?" he asked in an awed tone.

"Yes," the fox replied hoarsely. "Yes, I am he," he said, more clearly this time. Sly looked at him as if he had seen a ghost. Robin had changed, and not for the better. Scars were visible all over his face and body. His clothes were tattered, caked with dirt and dried blood. His fur was matted, and his eyes were weary and bloodshot. He also seemed to be developing thicker fur on his chin.

"What happened to you?" Sly asked disbelievingly. "You were dead!"

"Well, my death was rather exaggerated," Robin said in reply. "I was sleeping on a tree branch when I heard you yelling. Naturally, I woke up to see the commotion. By the time I had dismounted my perch, the forest was consumed with fire. I made haste looking for any friendly souls who were misfortunate enough to get trapped in the commotion. As I was looking, I felt a large object collide with my head. I have a blank space of memory after that occurrence.

"The next thing I remember is being restrained while the sheriff brutally wielded his knife across my body. It seemed he wanted to leave no trace of my existence." Robin absentmindedly ran the tips of his fingers across a particularly nasty gash on the side of his face, as if he was trying to remember the excruciating sensation it had brought him. "It was pure agony like nothing I had felt before. I screamed. I screamed loud enough to shake the pillars of Nottingham's tower. I felt my very essence slipping from my body. I concentrated on holding on to the sliver of life I had left. I heard the sheriff say something, but my ears broadcasted it faintly. They still haunt me. 'This time, your execution will have you begging for such a sweet feeling as pain.' I picked up something else, but my head didn't register it. I blacked out again." Robin walked to the window and looked out. "And so it ends," he finished, dramatically and sorrowfully. Sly approached the back of the thief and laid a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"Listen," Sly said. "I grew up listening to your legend. You were fearless, you always laughed in the face of danger. The Robin Hood I know won't let a cell stop him from freeing Nottingham."

"Yet it does," came the melancholy reply.

"Robin, you might think it's the end. But think about this for a minute. If you die, what's going to stop Prince John from handing Marian the same fate?"

"No," Robin replied, his voice shaky and watery. He closed his eyes and pointed his head to the ground. "No, please…" He brought his trembling hands over his face, horrifying pictures no doubt flooding his mind. Sly felt a pang of regret, but if Robin wanted Marian to live a good life, he would have to survive for her. So Sly pressed on.

"We're talking about a heartless tyrant, Robin," Sly said angrily. "A twisted devil spawn that enjoys brutally maiming innocent people. A sick bastard who has entire armies at his command! What will stop him from executing Marian if your head's already on a stick?"

"Stop…Just…stop," Robin begged through his sobs as he sank to his knees. "Marian…My sweet Marian…"

"And what of Skippy, Robin?" Sly tormented the fox. "Would you so easily die to let Prince John take his young life, as well?" A few moments passed with no reply. Robin's ears and tail were drooping as he weeped silently into his hands. Once again, Sly placed his hand on Robin's quivering shoulder, and he began to comfort the convict.

"Do you see now, Robin?" He took the soft tone of a guardian angel whispering in the criminal's ear. "Do you see now what you have to live for? Do you see now that you're the only thing stopping Prince John from killing all of the peasants in Nottingham? Do you see now that you lead a rebellion? All of the villagers love you, Robin." He gave Robin's shoulder a light, encouraging shake. "They would gladly put themselves in your place to let you live on."

"No," Robin said emotionally. "I will never allow an innocent life to be bargained for mine own."

"I would bargain my life for yours, Robin. Thief's honor."

"I would not allow it," the fox's broken voice came.

"You wouldn't be allowing an innocent life to be bargained for yours. I'm far from innocent, Robin. I killed three men within the hour I arrived. Look at me," Sly commanded. Robin's head slowly turned to meet the raccoon's gaze, eyes red and face streaked with tears, mingling with dirt, fur and blood. "You fought in the crusades," Sly continued.

"Oh, the cruelest of my years!" Robin cried out in misery.

"You saw men die for what they believed in. Do you think they died for something worthy?"

"How dare you dishonor the soldiers?!"

"What do you believe in? What's on this earth that makes you fight like you do? What is it?" Sly's plan was working. Robin had to regain himself right now, or he wouldn't escape.

"Justice. Love. Honor. I don't know," Robin said in a defeated voice as he turned away. "What's it to you?"

"It means nothing to me. The question is 'What's it to you?'" Sly pointed to Robin. "You've lost your will to live. I'm just reminding you how much you have to live for. Marian, Nottingham, a free world." He grabbed Robin's shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. "Get your act together. You know what to do and how to do it. You're just lucky enough for me to help you."

Robin closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "You're right. I can't mope about. As much as I don't want to accept it, I'm the only thing between Marian and the sheriff. If I die, he will kill her, no matter what Prince John tells him."

"Exactly. So help me figure out a way out of here."

"There are none, Sly," Robin said with melancholy. "Don't you think I would have escaped by now after all the times I've been in here?"

"You forget, Robin, that they have much more secure cells in the future."

"I doubt technology will do you good if the sheriff of Nottingham has it."

"True," Sly admitted. "But sometimes for the wolf to survive, it has to chew off its own leg."

"The wolf has to what?" Robin asked in a confused tone.

"Sometimes you have to sacrifice a part of yourself for the greater good of the rest of your body. Now watch."

**Robin**

Robin watched as Sly made a face that gave him the appearance of deep thought. His curiosity took over. What would the raccoon do? _"Sacrifice a part of yourself for the greater good…"_ What did that mean? Suddenly, Sly grabbed one of his thumbs and pushed the rest of his hand forward. Robin heard a sickening _crack_ and a grunt of pain from Sly. As he let go of his hand, Robin caught a glimpse of the now unnaturally-placed thumb. It seemed to have dislodged itself from its comfortable position. Robin winced and turned away. "Ugh. Why would you do something like that?" he asked, shuddering.

"So I can do something like _this_." Sly tried to fit his uninjured hand through the crack in the bars, but to no avail. "Did you see how I can't fit my hand through? Now watch this." Sly tried again, with his injured hand this time. It went through the bars cleanly, allowing Sly to reach the keyhole. The raccoon took his hat off and shook something small out of it. He transferred the item to his injured hand and proceeded to slam it into the lock. He jiggled the item around in the keyhole, and after a few unfruitful attempts, gave a laugh of triumph and brought his hand back in.

"That was a paper clip," Sly said. "Used for holding papers together. Or papyrus, in your case. Anyway…" He popped his thumb with another revolting crunch of bones. When he had finished, his hand was back to normal. "We're free."

Robin stared in awe at what had happened. How on earth had he inflicted damage to himself and then repaired it immediately? He asked. "What did you do? How…? I don't understand!"

"I dislocated my thumb," Sly answered, wiggling and rotating the digit. "It's extremely painful, but it's better than dying." Robin's ears suddenly picked up halfhearted clapping. He looked around and saw the sheriff flanked by two other wolves. That bastard must have been listening.

"Very, very well done!" the deceptionist lied through his teeth, still clapping sarcastically. "Honestly, I am truly impressed! Especially the whole 'cruelest of my years!' bit. Although I can tell you that we wolves don't chew our own legs off. We don't take too kindly to pain." He opened the cell door. "You woke up just in time for the execution. I must thank you for opening the door for me. I have so many keys I forget which is which," he said as his posse rushed in. Robin felt himself thrown against the wall. His wounds throbbed with pain from the impact. His hands were now cuffed and his arm was held by a posse who was forcing him out of the cell.

"Security measure, then?" he said in a way that might be used to comment on the weather. "The last time I broke in, you had one key for every door in here. Made my job a lot easier, thanks." He received a sharp blow to his lower left stomach that left him winded. "Nice jab," he said when he had finished coughing. His eyes were watery, but he could make out a prisoner carriage. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he shot his mouth off one more time.

"You shouldn't have. I can walk if we need to." Another painful fist to the stomach took his breath again. He felt himself being forced onto the hard wooden plank that served as a chair. He looked to his right and saw Sly being violently persuaded in the same way. Now Robin's bonds started to smart. His wrists were chafing from the cuffs, and though he was used to it, he gave a whine of pain.

"I thought whimpers were a dog thing," he heard Sly observe.

"You clearly never studied the sciences," Robin said. There were a few moments of silence following. "Oh…right. Foxes are dog subspecies," came Sly's slow-witted reply.

"Hey, stop talking!" a posse said forcefully as he climbed in on the wooden plank opposite the two thieves. He slapped the side of the carriage twice and they began to move.

"So, buddy," Robin heard Sly attempting to converse with the guard. "You seem like a reasonable guy. Why the no chit-chat, huh?" There was no response, as Robin had known would happen. "Oh, I get it," Sly said. "The guilt and the shame of killing us, right? You know we're doing the right thing, but you have orders from the high and mighty Prince John. And you're torn. You don't know which voice in your head to listen to."

"I feel no remorse due to ridding Nottingham of your filth," came the cold, bitter reply.

"Ouch. That's a little dark, isn't it?"

"It's justice. Nothing else."

"Well, my friend, if you don't mind my saying so, you have a- WAIT!" Sly shouted out suddenly. "_Be careful with that! It-"_ A large _bang_ filled the air, then a yell of pain, then a thud. Robin looked past the guard. There was a group of Prince John's men huddled around a fallen soldier. "…bites," Sly said quietly. "Damn it."

"What was that?" Robin asked.

"A gun."

"A what?"

Sly sighed, then turned to Robin. "Think of a crossbow. Now make it small enough to carry on your hip, make it out of metal, fill it with thirteen copper projectiles about three times smaller than an arrowhead, and give it a trigger that lets you fire them without having to cock the firing mechanism back each time you want to fire. Then you have a semi-automatic 9-millimeter gun."

"I _said_, no talking," came the guard's voice.

"Yet we're talking," Sly bit back with the attitude of a jester.

"Stop talking or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Robin said as both sides turned to him in surprise. He felt the same, yet he continued with his speech. "Kill us? Isn't that where we're going anyway? The hangman's noose? The guillotine? The executioner's axe? I'm sure Prince John wouldn't be very happy if somebody killed Robin Hood like he was any other criminal. He would want it to be especially painful. Your threat holds no weight."

"Why do you do this, anyway?" Sly asked the guard.

The guard looked at him. "I have no choice." He took a moment, a deep breath, then explained himself in a low voice.

"I was a crusader. I always wanted to be the do-gooder. The one who never got punished for breaking the law. Well, when the crusades were over, I returned home only to find that Prince John was in charge. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't resign. I couldn't quit. I couldn't escape. You were lucky to get out when you did, Robert."

Robin felt shock. How could this man have known his name? His face must have shown his emotions, because the guard looked at him as if such a thing had happened. "A pseudonym only works if it's uncrackable. You picked an easy code, if you don't mind my saying so." The guard continued his story.

"The reason I first attempted to escape was because of you, Robin. Your story inspired me. I, however, was not as successful at getting away from knighthood as you were. They captured me and brought me back. I still have the scars from the lesson they taught me." The guard sighed. "Ever since, I've been afraid to try again."

Robin didn't know what to do. Comfort him? Send him off with a "Be merry, my friend" and a pat on the back? Without thinking, he laid his hands on the guard's shoulder. "Whoever you are, you're strong. I can see it. The courage to speak out against Prince John…Well, it's in short supply these days. I myself haven't been as motivating to the people as I should. But now is our chance. You can escape with us. We will find a spot for you in King Richard's army when this is over. Please…" The guard met his gaze. "…you may not get another chance to break free." Robin could tell his words had shaken the guard's focus. He fidgeted uncomfortably, contemplating the benefits and the consequences. He looked at the road ahead of them, and Robin did the same. The royal castle was now very close. They were now crossing the drawbridge. Death was calling…

Robin looked back at the guard, who now had his face in his hands, not weeping, but still deep in thought. "Think of it. Richard never chastised his men. He never made poor judgment. If you help us bring him back, all of Nottingham will prosper." The guard looked to the front of the carriage again. They had entered the castle. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at Robin in a way that showed he meant it. "I can't, not now. It's too late." Robin nodded his head slowly, closing his eyes. "I understand," he said in a soft voice. His one chance to live on had been thwarted. The whole of Nottingham would watch as life was brutally sucked from his body. The crowd had gathered, held there against their will by Prince John's army. He wanted it to be known that Robin Hood had died at his merciless hands. The carriage stopped, and Robin saw two poles sticking out of the ground. He guessed that he and Sly would each be tied to one.

"All right, move," the guard said threateningly. Then he lowered his voice as they got off the carriage. "I'll help you escape if you can break free of the poles." Then it clicked in Robin's mind. Escape. Obstacles. It was a long shot, but he would need to try.

**Sly**

_Great. I'm going to die before I exist._ As much as Sly wanted to get out of this, he just didn't see a way to make it happen. It seemed all of Nottingham was there to watch. That didn't bode well. They must not have liked him dropping in from out of nowhere and stealing Robin's thunder. The wooden sticks were drawing closer. _What are they gonna have me do? Dance to death?_ He kept his cool, collected outward appearance as he panicked slightly on the inside. He was stopped in front of a pole, and he watched as the guard that had ridden with him marched Robin to the other. Another guard now stood in front of Sly. "Lift your hands up as far as you can," he commanded. Sly obeyed, putting as much distance between his hands and his tail as possible. Suddenly, the guard picked him up by the waist and put him down in such a way that trapped his hands behind the pole. "Hey, I'm not that kind of a guy," Sly joked with a smart-ass attitude. No response was given, not even an acknowledgement of the comment. Everything had suddenly died down. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Everything seemed dark and gloomy. _Perfect weather for a death or two,_ Sly thought. The clopping of hooves was faintly audible and growing louder. _Who's gonna be chopping heads today?_ Sly looked on as a crowned lion rode in on horseback while someone yelled, "Hail Prince John!" in response to his question.

_What the hell? There's something you don't see every day. _Sly looked at the fit, athletic horse the lion was riding._ I wonder how badly Prissy Pants wants to eat that thing. He's probably got mutton on his mind or something._ The lion himself looked a bit skinny, and his crown didn't fit right on his head. It jiggled whenever the horse took a step, making him look like he had come out of a cartoon. Slowly but surely, he guided his horse to a stop before dismounting, where he was greeted by the sheriff. The latter swiped his hat off his head in a noble bow before plopping it back on and whispering something in the king's ear, whose face lit up like a kid on Christmas.

"Greetings, my royal subjects!" he said in a high-and-mighty, yet childish voice. This gesture was met somewhat less than halfheartedly by the crowd. "This is a cheerful day! Not only have we captured the elusive Robin Hood…" Sly noticed he trilled the "r" before saying Robin's name, "…but we also have a criminal from the future! How exciting!"

_Damn. He reminds me of those teachers who always want kids to go to the school's ballroom dance. Too cheery, too childish, and his mouth's full because he's always sucking his own dick._ Sly kept this comment to himself. Not because it would anger the guy, but because he wouldn't even know what Sly was talking about. "I believe there is a commendation in order for the sheriff for outwitting a man with weapons a thousand years more advanced than our own!" Contradictory to the king's statement, the crowd gave noises of unhappiness and anger. Sly saw a few of the peasants try to overthrow the guards, but eight hundred pounds of adult rhinoceros was hard to get past. "Now, now. Let's not be unfair about this." The king took a scroll from his robes, unraveled it, and cleared his throat. "I shall read the criminals their wrongdoings and their punishment.

"_'After being tried in a court of law, we have found Robin Hood and his black accomplice to be guilty of theft and public denunciation and humiliation of the king and shall be executed on the morn of the second of December of the year of our Lord 1197. Each prisoner shall have their bowels removed before their beheadings. If he desires, the royal Prince John shall execute these men, and may God have mercy on their souls.'"_ The king finished reading and looked up. "I couldn't resist having my revenge, so…" He snapped his fingers. Immediately, a servant brought out a table filled with various devices of torture. Sly could see thumbscrews, knives, maces, and every medieval weapon known. "I wanted to make the best of it," Prince John finished with a demented grin. _Oh, man. This won't feel too good._ Sly looked over at Robin, who was fidgeting with his bonds. Whatever he was trying to pull, time was of the essence. Without thinking, Sly started stalling.

"Okay, okay," he said with a flippant attitude. "I see where this is going with the eviscerate/decapitate stuff, but really, wouldn't a chopping block and an axe have been so much simpler?"

Prince John laughed. "You may not know it, marsupial of tomorrow, but this man has evaded justice for seven years. He has been a bane to this fair city for too long." He grabbed a painful-looking six-inch rusted nail, looked them over, and turned back around to the pair. "So now, I get to watch him – better than that – I get to _make_ him bleed."

"NO!" Sly saw a wave of peasants moving as if someone was trying to get to the front. His suspicions were confirmed as Maid Marian threw herself out into the circle that contained the king and his victims. She fell on her knees and held her clasped hands against her chest, looking at Prince John with tears in her eyes.

"Spare their lives, I beg of you," she cried out to the prince.

"So he can just go back to Sherwood Forest and create a lyric dishonoring my name again? Not this time, vixen." He looked at his guards. _"Seize her!"_ The order was carried out immediately. Marian was instantly held captive by two members of the royal guard.

"MARIAN!" Sly heard Robin yell. He turned around to see the archer struggling even more vigorously. "NO! MARIAN!" Robin then turned his words to Prince John.

"Let her go. There's no need for her to be taken prisoner! She's done nothing wrong!"

The prince turned to Robin and advanced on him while talking. "Oh, but she has. She knowingly and willfully assisted you in theft. A lady's punishment should not be as severe as yours, however. I was thinking…" He had now come face-to-face with Robin. "…I would make her watch." A high-pitched gasp came from Marian. Prince John nodded to his guards. In response, they started to drag Marian closer to her lover. Her attempts to break free did no help whatsoever, and Sly saw the fight leave her eyes to be replaced with hopelessness and fear. The guards did not stop until they had positioned her at Robin's side.

"Now, if there are no more interruptions-" the prince began.

"J-just…one r-request, Your Highness," squeaked Marian with a watery voice.

"I'm listening?" Prince John prompted.

"O…O-one…last kiss?" came the feeble question.

Prince John began to laugh with vigor. "Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ah-hee-hee-hee-hee! A-ha! A-ha! Y...You want one – hee-hee! – last kiss?! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! So…p-predictable! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! A-ha! A-ha! Of course you can have one – ha-ha-ha-ha! – last – hee-hee! – kiss!" He made a gesture with his hand while wiping a tear from his eye and stepped back from the fox. Sly watched the guards bring Marian closer to Robin on Prince John's cue. Suddenly, the back of Marian's head moved in the way it would if she were kissing. And while Robin shared his last kiss, Sly heard the distinctive _pop_ of a dislocated finger. He waited for the groan of pain to follow, but all he could hear was pleasurable moaning. _So, Robin, you couldn't escape from a fire, but you're able to disguise your escape with a game of tonsil hockey? I'd kick your clever bastard ass if I wasn't chained to this pole. Hell, I'd have done the same thing if I hadn't already dislocated my thumb earlier! You're lucky I can only do it one time every hour or so!_ Sly made a mental note to practice his tolerance for dislocation. It might save him in the future.

Marian's head had stopped moving, and she was now held captive once again, forced to watch as her love was mercilessly ripped apart. Prince John slowly walked to Robin as the crowd stared in horror of the anticipated bloodshed to come. Sly could hear Prince John's words. "Bow before your king, scum." With that, he thrust the nail with all of his might straight for Robin's left ear.


End file.
